Even Training Can Be Fun
by btamamura
Summary: ...until old memories spoil it. Captain de Treville organises a game for the Musketeers to play, disguising it as training. But, some difficult memories come back...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters._

**Notes: **_**I was reading the **__School Rumble__** manga and this idea hit after reading a story in which one class plays a survival game in order to decide what they'll do for the cultural festival. Anyway, the first chapter is rather light-hearted...the second though, not so much.**_

_**This includes references to **__Recovering From All Wounds__** and **__Final Stage of Recovery__**, rather you could say that this follows after the latter. There is also a reference to the episode **__The Spy__**. There is no slash involved, it's brotherly love and friendship among the Musketeers. Enjoy!**_

The Musketeers were gathered in the courtyard, de Treville had something to say to them. "Gentlemen, I've decided we're going to have a change in your training, just for today. We're going to play a game."

Five pairs of eyes widened in surprise at that. "Sir, what do you mean by a game?" Albert asked.

"We're going to be playing a game of _Catch the Flag_. You'll split into two teams. One man will guard the flag, while the other-slash-others will try to retrieve it. The first team to bring the opponent's flag to me wins. To make things interesting, we'll also be putting paint ammunition into your blunderbusses. If you've been hit, you're out. For the team with only two people, if the retriever is out of action, then it's up to the guard."

"How will we decide who'll be in which team, Sir?" Aramis queried.

"Draw straws. I'll colour the ends of them in orange and blue." He heard the chuckles at the colours he'd chosen, knowing they were appropriate. "Albert, would you be able to make the ammunition?"

"Certainly, Sir!"

"The game will commence tomorrow morning." He brought out five straws. "Here are the straws. It would be wise to find your teams now so you can strategise."

Everybody reached in and drew their straws. The first Three Musketeers had drawn the orange straws, which left D'Artagnan and Albert as the other team.

Albert was figuring out a good way to make the paint balls. "I can't fill iron cannon balls with paint, those would cause serious injuries if they made contact. But, if I used the same sheets I do for the spaghetti ammunition, the paint would leak out."

"I'm sure you'll find someway to make them. But, what about our strategy? Who'll retrieve their flag, and who'll guard ours?"

"I'll retrieve the other flag."

"You know, if it's two on one, they'll have an advantage."

"I can help set up some traps near our flag so they'll have a little trouble. And, while I go to retrieve theirs, I can sneak through the smaller areas."

"Good idea, they'll never suspect it!"

"Well, if we know Albert, he'll try to sneak past our defences through the smallest gaps that only he can fit through," Athos commented.

"So, it would be D'Artagnan guarding the flag. He'd stand no chance against two of us if we attack from the front and the rear," Porthos added.

"Wait! Albert is on the team, so he'll have traps as back-up," Aramis pointed out. "We'll have to be extra careful."

"Ah-ha! I'll hollow out the rubber cannon balls and fill those with paint. They'll burst easily and won't hurt as severely as iron cannon balls would!" He moved to do so. "D'Artagnan, what sorts of traps would you like for help?"

"What do you have to offer?"

Albert suddenly burst out laughing.

"What? What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry, it just sounded quite strange...the way we were talking...!"

He tried thinking about it, and found himself laughing too. "Ye gods, it sounded like I was the evil genius in that story we heard being told in the City Square!"

He tried to suppress more laughter, but failed.

"Hmm? What are they laughing about?" Porthos asked. He could hear the loud laughter coming from the workshop downstairs, right underneath the sleeping quarters.

"We'd better watch out, they might have something dastardly planned," Athos responded.

The laughter finally subsided, and both men wiped tears of mirth out of their eyes. Albert cleared his throat. "Now then, in all seriousness, I can set up something just as efficient as that trap I'd set up when we'd had a spy in our midst."

"That was a pretty good one. None of them would stand a chance if they fell into that again." D'Artagnan leaned against the window sill. "You know, I still can't believe it was actually Vijiac who was the spy."

"It wasn't entirely his fault. Milady had charmed him with her feminine wiles and caused him to spill our secrets."

"Such a wicked temptress, she is." He crossed his arms. "Alright, so we have our strategy planned?"

"Yes. Traps to help guard the flag, and I'll sneakily take theirs. I'll have something extra with me to signal our success after I've come back here. I'll go into hiding while waiting for your arrival, and then we can hand over the flag together. We are a team, after all."

"Okay, that sounds good."

"Now then, since that is settled and I'm certain the others are still planning in the bedroom, would you be able to assist me with making the ammunition?"

"Sure. What do you want me to do?"

"I've already hollowed out most of the cannon balls. While I do so with more, could you fill them with the paint? Make sure to put a line on each cannon ball so we know which is which."

"Alright."

Because the game was also part of training, everyone was taking it seriously. That meant that D'Artagnan had spent the night in Albert's workshop, resting his head on the table. Why? Because the Three Musketeers were still planning their strategy. After all, they were against Albert, the one who was the brains behind the whole squad.

The rooster crowed at the crack of dawn, and a town crier could be heard shouting out the time, followed by a familiar sound of a splash of water.

Albert sat up and stretched, causing the blanket over his shoulders to fall off. "Ahh, it's morning. We'll have breakfast, and then we'll be ready for the training game."

D'Artagnan stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He let out a yawn and stretched, his blanket falling to the ground. "Huh? When did that get there?"

"You fell asleep before I did, and I figured it would get cold throughout the night." He was moving towards his fireplace and setting down some logs. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, not too badly. The blanket did help keep me warm, so thank you for that."

"Anything for a friend." He struck a match and lit the logs. "I won't be brewing up ammunition for breakfast because the others will want some too. Since we're in seperate teams until the end of the game, it would be wise to keep our distance before we meet with Captain de Treville."

"Good idea. One of them could try to get our strategy out of us without us even realising."

"Yes, there is that to consider. In the end, though, we are playing a game. It might be training, but I have a feeling the Captain has something else in mind."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it wasn't that long ago we'd all finally recovered from all of our wounds."

"Oh. You're right."

"So, I'm thinking he might be trying to lighten things up around here, disguising it as a form of training."

"I understand now." D'Artagnan did understand. A month and a half ago, the Three Musketeers and himself had been ambushed by a number of Cardinal's Guards, and were severely wounded in battle. Albert's wounds were also serious, even if they weren't physical. The petit male had been carrying fear, guilt and distress following the attack. It was only after being able to finally voice all of his thoughts and feelings to the spirit of his late mother, D'Artagnan and his father Philbert, he was able to recover and move on.

Despite the recoveries all of them had made, the atmosphere was still a little sombre. It seemed the Captain was getting tired of seeing his best men in such a solemn mood, even if they'd tried to act as if all was well again, so he'd organised a game so they could forget their troubles, if only for a day.

The group was assembled in the courtyard, awaiting the arrival of their Captain. Albert had shared the ammunition around, though he kept his secret traps hidden.

Captain de Treville approached the group. "Good morning, gentlemen. I hope you're all ready for your training to begin. I see you all have your ammunition ready. Alright then, I've set up the playing field in the outskirts of Saint-Germain Forest."

"Is it really a good idea to be there? We do have to worry about bandits, wolves and swamps," D'Artagnan stated, anxiety in his tone.

"D'Artagnan has a point, he'd experienced all of them in the one day. Though, the bandits were easily taken care of," Albert added.

"Like I said, it's the outskirts of the forest, away from the wolves, swamps and bandits. The orange flag is to the east and the blue flag is to the south. Remember, once the flag is in the opponent's possession, you cannot stop them. It means that they are victorious. I'll wait in my office for your return. Until then, I hope you all play fair and stay safe. Have fun!"

The two youngest of the Musketeers looked at each other. _Looks like this really is just to lighten things up..._

Everyone made their way to the stables where their equine partners rested. It was time to get going and begin training.

As the group neared the forest, they split into their teams and headed in the directions the Captain had said their flags were. "It's a good thing my traps were easy to sneak away," Albert said to D'Artagnan as they reached their flag. They dismounted the equines and Albert got to work setting up his trap. It was a simple one, so it didn't take long. "This will protect the rear when they make their move." He then took out his blunderbuss and some ammunition. "Alright, I'm going to make my move. Do your best, D'Artagnan." He removed his hat, knowing the feather would give away his position, and set it on his mule's head.

"Alright, you too."

He smiled and nodded, then made his way into some thick shrubbery.

D'Artagnan watched as Albert got onto his hands and knees, and started to crawl through the thick bush. "I have to admit, I do envy the fact he can do that so easily." He readied his blunderbuss and stood by the flag. "No matter what, I'm not going to move away from this spot."

"Alright, Porthos, do your best in guarding that flag," Athos stated. "I'll approach from the south. Aramis, you approach from the west. If we split up, there is more of a chance of getting past anything they have planned."

The tall blond nodded. He watched as Athos walked off. "Athos, I'm afraid that's north."

The oldest of the Musketeers turned to walk in the other direction, granted he was still facing north, but that's what happens when one walks backwards.

Aramis then made his way to the western quadrants of the forest.

Albert snuck through the bushes as quietly as he could, which was a little hard with them rustling as much as they were. But, if he was out in the open, he might be seen.

D'Artagnan covered his mouth with a hand and let out a large yawn. "I don't think it will hurt if I have a bit of a nap..." He sat down against a tree, leaned back and made himself comfortable. He pulled down the brim of his hat and closed his eyes.

Athos had been fortunate that he hadn't tripped over any large logs or rocks that were in his path, considering he wasn't exactly watching where he was going.

Porthos sat by the orange flag, his stomach letting out a slight grumble. "I knew I should've had more for breakfast. This could last all day for all I know."

Aramis was sneaking through the forest, keeping a close eye and ear out for any sign of his comrade, yet current opponent.

_Ah-ha! Here comes Aramis! He's coming closer..._ Albert aimed his blunderbuss. _I'm sorry to do this, but this is the point of the game._ He pulled the trigger.

Aramis jumped out of the way in time, turning to the bush he heard noise coming from. _There! The glint of silver! That's where he is!_ He turned and prepared to take aim.

That was a fatal mistake. Albert was a quick shooter, he'd had much experience with a blunderbuss in the two years he was a Musketeer. He took aim and fired again, getting blue paint on Aramis' uniform.

Aramis sighed. "It looks like you got me. But, it's nothing to fret over. As I speak, your flag is certain to be taken."

Albert popped out from the bushes. "We've come prepared, Aramis. By the way..." His expression showed concern. "Did that cannon ball hurt?"

"Not as much as if it was made of iron. I might get a slight bruise here later."

"Oh. I'm very sorry, I should've used something different. I didn't mean to hurt you..."

Aramis could see he was starting to show those signs of guilt again. "Stop. Bumps and bruises happen in training, you know that. Especially when it comes to us. So, don't fret over it, alright? You'll take the fun out of the game."

"Alright."

"Well, I'm going to return to our team's base. Good luck with the rest of the game."

"Thank you. Take care."

"You too." He watched Albert duck back into the bushes. "By the way, some friendly advice, those are a little loud. I could hear you coming even before you fired the gun."

"I see. I'll find somewhere else then." He watched as Aramis started making his way back towards the east. _Now then...if I know them, they would've had Porthos guard the flag, meaning Athos is after ours. I'll follow Aramis quietly, find their base, and then when they least expect it, I'll take the flag._

Athos continued to make his way through the forest, not tripping over anything once. It must've been his lucky day, because he did have a trip here and there on any other day. He stopped near a clearing, where he heard the familiar sound of D'Artagnan's snoring. "Here it is!" he whispered. "I'll take the flag now, it's an easy win."

Too bad Athos forgot momentarily what D'Artagnan's team-mate was capable of, and he literally walked right into a trap.

D'Artagnan jumped awake at the sound of cowbells. They'd been set up as an alarm, just in case D'Artagnan did fall asleep, good thing Albert always plans ahead. "Ah-ha! So, you thought you could take our flag, did you?"

Athos couldn't respond, he had a kerchief tied around his mouth. _Another gag...how does he do it?_

"Just to make sure you can't take our flag if you do escape from those binds..." He took out the blunderbuss, stepped a fair distance, knowing close-range shots could hurt more, and fired.

Athos let out a sigh as he struggled to escape the rope binding his hands and legs together. There was blue on his uniform, meaning he was out of the game.

D'Artagnan approached him and untied him. "There. You're out so it's safe to untie you."

"Thank you." He looked around. "I see Albert has been busy."

"Yes, and I'm actually thankful for that."

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't it good to see him back to his old self after all that had happened?"

"You're right."

"He also expressed thoughts that maybe the Captain had organised the game as our training, just so we could relax and have a bit more fun. Heaven knows we need it."

"Yes. Well then, I assume Aramis was taken out earlier, leaving Porthos protecting our flag. The game will end soon, so you may as well come back with me. Bring the horses, of course."

He nodded and did so, holding the reins of his horse and Albert's mule.

Heeding Aramis' advice, Albert stayed out of the bushes. Instead he hid behind the trees. He had remarkable stealth, so he was able to dart from one tree to another without being noticed. Soon, he'd reached his destination.

Porthos looked up and saw Aramis with a splatter of blue paint on his uniform. "Who got you?"

"Albert. We'd better be careful, he's sure to have followed me here."

_Curses! Aramis knows! Now that Porthos has been warned, I really will have to be careful._ He was waiting for the perfect opportunity to move in for the attack, though now that Porthos was more guarded, he knew it would take a while.

He was still watching and waiting, but then he heard the sound of footsteps and hooves clomping on the ground. _Is that D'Artagnan and Athos with our horses?_ It was now or never, time to move in, and hopefully snatch the flag. He darted behind more trees, making his way to the back of the clearing. _Perfect! Porthos isn't watching, and Aramis can't warn him of my approach! I'll grab it right now!_ He raced into the clearing, ready to snatch the flag. He paused in his steps though as he saw D'Artagnan being hit by a paint ball that came from Porthos' blunderbuss. "D'Artagnan!"

"What are you waiting for? The flag's right there! I'll be fine, just take it before..."

He ducked, dodging Porthos next shot. He did as ordered and took hold of the flag. "There. We've won." The victory was short-lived in his mind as he hurried to D'Artagnan's side. "Are you alright? Aramis told me those can hurt a bit."

"I already said I'll be fine. I'll have a bruise, but it's no worse than any other training session." He took the petit Musketeer's hat from the mule and moved to put it on his head. "So, stop looking at me like that. It was a game, and we're all okay. I thought you'd put those feelings of guilt and fear away."

"I thought I did too. I don't know why they returned so suddenly."

"I think it's because this is the first time in over a month following the attack that we've actually done something like this. It might be bringing back some memories," Aramis pondered.

"That makes sense. But, I know deep down that all of you will be fine. I need to remind myself of that."

_It looks like no matter what we do, there's still a part of those wounds that will never completely heal..._ D'Artagnan thought sadly. "You're not leaving us, understand?"

"D'Artagnan..."

"You're not leaving us. I don't care what the Captain says if he decides it's what's best for you. I don't care if the doctor reinforces how good it will be for your well-being. It wouldn't be the same without you. Last night, you and I laughed like we hadn't in a long time. We should all be able to have more of those times together, right?"

"I caused you to worry again, didn't I?" He sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just that when I saw the paint ball heading towards you, even if I knew what it really was, I found myself imagining a more realistic scenario. I'm glad you brought me back to my senses. Thank you."

"It's alright. Now, let's go to Paris. Albert and I have to present the flag as proof of our victory."

The others nodded in agreement, mounted their equines and rode back to the city.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters._

**Notes: **_**To understand what they're talking about in this chapter, please refer to the events of **__Recovering From All Wounds__** and **__Final Stage of Recovery__**.**_

Monsieur de Treville was no fool. He'd noticed there was a solemn attitude in his two youngest Musketeers upon their return, even if they were the ones who were victorious. "Albert, D'Artagnan, did something happen out there?"

"The past month came back to haunt us momentarily," D'Artagnan replied quietly. He handed over the flag. "Here. I'm going to go rest." He made his way out of the office.

Albert sighed sadly as he watched his friend leave. "I've caused him to worry..."

"It looks like it's more than that. Go and talk to him, Albert. You both need to clear the air on this matter." He smiled reassuringly. "And don't worry, you don't have to leave until you want to. You have been making great progress in your recovery, and I'm well-aware that there will always be some part of you that still aches from those unfortunate memories. That's understandable. But, as long as it doesn't rule your life...just gradually allow the pain to subside."

"Thank you, Sir." He hurried after D'Artagnan.

D'Artagnan was in the hallway, slowly making his way to the sleeping chambers he shared with the Three Musketeers.

"D'Artagnan! Please wait!"

He turned to the youngest and smallest of the Musketeers. "Albert?"

"Can we please talk?"

He opened the door to a nearby room. "We'll talk in here." He led the petit male inside.

"D'Artagnan, you're still hurting as well, aren't you? Would you like to talk about it?"

"I was saying to Athos that seeing you busy was a good thing, because it felt like you really were back to your old self again. You seemed to be doing much better after we visited Philbert. The way we laughed together last night felt refreshing, I was worried it would never happen again. But then, you had a fear attack in the forest when you saw me get hit by the paint ball. I could see you starting to revert to those earlier days, and it scared and upset me. I hate seeing you like that. There's still a part of those wounds that refuses to heal, isn't there?"

"I'm afraid so."

"That's why I told you that no matter what, you're not leaving us."

"I'm not. The Captain knows how much I have recovered, and is aware that there is still going to be that small part that aches from the pain of those memories. Just like that small part that aches when I mourn for Maman. But, it's not going to rule my life. It's still early days following the recovery, so the wounds will still be ready to reopen. I'm trying to not let it happen so much."

"So, why when we were playing a game? Aramis told me on the way back that it happened when you shot at him too."

"I don't know, D'Artagnan..."

"I do. What happened over a month ago was just as traumatic as your mother's death. It took you five years to be able to smile again following that. You've never been good at handling trauma, as Philbert told me. It's obvious. I guess...I just felt scared that we were going to lose you."

"Lose me?"

"You'd have to resign from the Musketeers. I don't want that to happen. Things are different with you here, and it's for the better. It would be strange without your presence here."

"I'll still be here. It is true that I can't handle trauma very well. It is true that what happened to you struck just as hard as Maman's passing. But, I am doing my best to move forward. Memories will still haunt me, but I'm not going to let them rule my life. I'm not going to let my fears take over duty when we're finally back on missions. And I am going to do my very best at making certain I don't cause you such distress anymore. I'm sorry I did so today."

"Not just today. I've been feeling it all month. But, with the condition you were in, who was I to put my problems on your shoulders?"

"...D'Artagnan...you suffered for that long...? Why didn't you...why didn't you say something sooner...?"

"Like I said, that would've been more for you to deal with, and at the time, it was hard enough dealing with your personal fears."

"I am so very sorry..." He shook his head and looked down to the ground. "I wish you had said something sooner. Never mind what I was feeling. I was in pain because my closest friends had been severely wounded. Now I know I'd helped deliver some of them."

"Don't say that..."

"It is true though, isn't it?" He looked up at D'Artagnan with sad eyes. "Even now, I'm cutting you up inside..."

"It's just because I can't stand seeing my little brother so upset!" he exclaimed vehemently. "I hate seeing you in such distress! When I saw you wiping tears out of your eyes last night after we shared a hearty laugh, I was relieved to know they were of mirth, not sorrow!"

He stepped back. "That's why I got so upset, why it still upsets me. Because just as you can't stand seeing your little brother in pain, I can't stand seeing my big brothers in a state like this. I couldn't help then...and now I find out that I wasn't able to help because you wouldn't let me...I would've disregarded my pain so I could help you..."

"That's exactly what I did! I ignored all of these feelings so I could help you on the right path!" He inhaled deeply and calmed himself. "But, you know what? I'd do it again and again with no regrets because it meant that I was helping someone dear to me when they needed help."

"D-D'Artagnan..."

"Hey, please don't...why are you crying?"

"I...I don't know, they just started to fill my eyes..." He bowed his head again, his body shaking gently.

"I'm able to deal with this sort of stuff in a better manner than you can. That's why I focused on helping you and ignoring what I felt. It helped me feel better. I felt sad when I saw your fear attack earlier because it felt like I hadn't done enough to help you."

"You've done everything you could." He looked up to him, tears still flowing, but he was smiling. "I truly appreciate every single thing you did to help me. Every. Single. Thing. How you would comfort me when I broke down like this, how you'd allow me to stay with you when the fear struck, how you came with me to Papa's house and helped me express my thoughts and feelings. All of that and more. Thank you so very much, D'Artagnan, from the bottom of my heart and the depths of my soul." He wiped at his eyes. "That's funny, they won't stop..."

"Then let them go for a while. I'm still here with you. And I always will be. Alright?" He led him to a sofa and helped him sit down. He then sat beside him, an arm around his shoulders in a half-embrace and allowed the petit male to continue weeping silently. He knew this time the tears weren't just of the negative feelings, but of sincere gratitude.

Time passed, and the trembling had ceased. "Albert? Are you alright?" He heard some even breaths as a response. "He's asleep. I guess there's no harm in staying a little longer. I did tell him I'd stay with him, and I will." He looked down to him and removed his hat. "Rest well, Albert."


End file.
